The Scarf
by MusketeerAdventure
Summary: This story takes place during the season 2 episode, An Ordinary Man. The scarf felt like a shield. It made him feel invincible. Chapter 2 has been added.
1. Chapter 1

The Scarf

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: This story takes place during the season 2 episode, An Ordinary Man.

The scarf felt like a shield. It made him feel invincible.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He held the scarf tightly in his grip. It still wound its way around his hand. It felt like a shield, it made him feel invincible – until this moment.

As he walked back toward the others, his knees began to buckle and he made a slow decent to the ground, and could feel nothing, hear nothing.

When he looked up from the ground, the trees were swaying; but he could not feel the wind. When he looked to his left, Aramis was screaming at him, shaking his shoulders; silence – nothing.

When he closed his eyes, he welcomed the darkness.

Athos rushed to them, and crashed beside d'Artagnan, "What's wrong? Is he injured?"

Aramis was raking his hands over d'Artagnan's head, shoulders, arms, looking for something – anything to account for this sudden fall. "I don't know I can't see what's wrong. Help me move him there, by the stream."

Aramis grabbed him under the arms and Athos under his knees and they moved as swiftly as the terrain would let them. Bruno Lemaitre limped slowly behind them.

"I did not see him strike a blow" insisted Athos, as they laid him by the stream. d'Artagnan made not a sound as they adjusted his limbs.

Athos looked down closely at his friend, and took in his battered face, the matted blood in his hair, his swollen lip and the cut on his cheek.

"Could it be something else?"

This stillness frightened him. It frightened him just as much as the rage he had witnessed when d'Artagnan flung the innkeeper from his horse and impaled him with his own sword. There were hidden depths in this boy. He had seen his temper – but this?

"I will look and see." Aramis began to remove his hat and coat and rolled up his sleeves. Athos removed his hat and sat beside them, waiting for instruction. He pointed at Bruno Lemaitre to sit nearby and with a glance ordered him not to move.

Lemaitre sat willingly, his leg throbbing, his endurance spent. He had never killed anyone before and today, to save himself from the noose, he had killed for his King, to help these Musketeers.

Aramis began to unfasten d'Artagnan's coat. "Help me", he said to Athos. Together they lifted him in a sitting position and removed his coat. Athos saw the blood first, "Here", he pointed out as the coat was lifted away, and the shirt was shown, striped with blood.

As they lifted and removed his shirt, Athos became still with fury.

There, on his brother's back were stripes from a whip. The thin lines trickled with blood. His torso molted with bruises.

"I need your help Athos", Aramis said sharply, cutting through his haze. "Let's put him on his side." With some maneuvering they placed him on his side.

Touching Athos' arm, he spoke again with an authoritative bark, "I need cloth from my bag, the wine, and we need water."

Before he could finish the sentence, Athos had bolted from the ground to the horse to retrieve the supplies. Once at the horse's side, he placed his head on the saddle and breathed deeply. He was seething.

He needed to get himself under control. He reached for the water skins and threw them at Lemaitre. "Gather water", he shouted, as he pulled the cloth, and wine from the saddle bag.

Lemaitre gawked for a moment, but sensed it would do no good to complain that he was in pain. He picked up the skins and hobbled to the stream.

Athos made his way back to Aramis' side with what he needed. "Has he moved?" he asked, handing over the supplies.

"No, but that might be a good thing. This is going to hurt."

He took the wine and poured it liberally over d'Artagnan's back, sure to dampen each stripe, then began to wipe over the injury. Once the blood was removed, it revealed three long, thin, stripes.

"Could this have brought him down? Do you see anything else?"

"Nothing else," Aramis answered him. "Bruises, contusions – there is nothing broken. I can see he has been through a lot. We'll learn more when he is conscious. Meanwhile, these do not need stitches, just cleaning to stave off infection."

Lemaitre moved toward them with the water skins and handed them over to Aramis, "Let us clean him up as best we can and make him comfortable."

Aramis then began the duty of washing d'Artagnan's back with water and the rest of the wine.

Athos collected wood and sticks to expend his anxious energy, tethered the horses and set about to make a fire, and lay out a blanket and saddle for d'Artagnan to rest on.

When he reached Aramis' side d'Artagnan still had not moved. It was decided to stay the night and catch up to Porthos, the King, and Milady in the morning.

Athos helped Aramis place him on the blanket, and put on him one of his clean shirts, hoping all of the jostling would get some response. He sat beside d'Artagnan adjusting his head on his saddle.

He turned to Aramis, "What do we do?"

"We wait. He may wake soon." Standing he moved over to Lemaitre to ask about his injury, unable to ignore the pain of even the worst of men.

Athos then noticed his scarf still wrapped around d'Artagnan's hand. It was wound tight, and covered his palm neatly. He looked to his face again, and noticed that Aramis had cleaned his cuts and bruises, but blood was still matted in his hair, becoming stiff.

Athos grabbed his hand and began to unwind the scarf. He would use it to wash d'Artagnan's hair.

d'Artagnan then began to stir, clenching his fist. Athos stopped to wait – hoping this was a sign that he must be coming around. But then, he was quiet again.

Athos sighed, and gently removed the scarf. Taking d'Artagnan's hand in his, he opened the palm and inspected it closely. There was nothing there, not a scratch.

Athos shook his head in disbelief. He could still see the cold granite d'Artagnan's eyes had become when he pulled the scarf from his neck to face down the innkeeper. He wished never to see that look again in his young friend's eyes. He could see his own mistakes, playing out all over again in d'Artagnan, emotions overruling good sense.

He touched the side of d'Artagnan's head and felt the crusting blood.

He closed his eyes tight. d'Artagnan and the King had almost been lost to them today. That they had been dangerously close to having to navigate the waters in order to keep them from slaving away on a Spanish vessel was not lost on him.

It did not surprise him that he felt loyalty, and yet no sympathy for his King- but he would have sailed to the ends of the earth to get d'Artagnan back.

He was grateful it had not come to that.

Athos stood and made his way to the stream. Looking out over the water, he tried to bring himself back to center. d'Artagnan was alive. He was battered, but would survive this. The gang of slave traders was all dead. God forgive him, but if just one could have survived, he would kill him now.

He looked back toward Aramis and Lemaitre and had to turn away quickly. It would not do to murder the man the King had just pardoned.

He swallowed his anger and bent to soak the scarf with cool water.

His mind fell on the events of the day. Seeing Anne had taken him aback. He had not been prepared to see her standing there alongside the King. He had once sworn to kill her if he ever saw her again. If what d'Artagnan said was true, and she had saved his life, he was reluctantly indebted to her. What were her motives? They were always to further her own agenda, whatever that might be.

He shook his troubling thoughts clear. He needed to only think of his brothers now, the safety of the King, and meeting back up with Porthos. The dauphin's christening and possible scandal hammered at him.

Getting to Porthos was imperative. With all of his brothers together, they could overcome any obstacle.

Making his way back to d'Artagnan's side, he heard a moan.

This spurred him on and he rushed to him, wiping the blood from his hair, "You can wake now," he urged. "You are safe."

Hearing him speak to d'Artagnan, Aramis joined him, waiting expectantly.

d'Artagnan moaned again, and slowly opened his eyes. There, leaning over him was Athos, wiping his brow.

He was so confused. Where was he? He looked around, and saw the horses moving, and Athos saying something to him. He realized then that he could hear nothing. Athos was touching him, he was lying on the hard ground, but he could feel nothing. What was happening? He began to shake uncontrollably.

Athos looked frightened. If Athos was afraid, then what did that mean? He called Athos' name, but could not hear himself, so called again, and again, louder and louder.

"He is in shock" screamed Aramis over d'Artagnan's wailing, "We need to warm him up." He ran for his cloak, and yelled for Athos to hold him close to help keep him warm.

Athos did not hesitate. He grabbed hold of d'Artagnan pulled him up into his arms, and pressed him to his chest, rocking back and forth, yelling over top of his calls for him – "I am here."

Lemaitre stood dumb, not knowing what to make of this.

When Aramis returned with the cloak, they covered him and Athos gripped it tight around him, trying to stem the shaking convulsions.

"Hold on to him" instructed Aramis, "I'll make something warm for him to drink."

Athos continued to hold on. In time, the convulsions reduced to tremors, d'Artagnan stopped screaming his name, and he took in a rattled breath. He had seen this before, and had hoped to never see it with d'Artagnan. It was the price of battle that many soldiers lived through, and some never recovered from.

He rocked his friend gently, and spoke nonsense, but knew d'Artagnan could not hear him. He took the scarf and began to wipe the blood from his hair, and knew he could not feel him. But he could see that d'Artagnan was aware of him. This was good.

Aramis appeared at his side with a cup, "See if he will drink this for you. It will warm his insides and help him to rest."

Athos nodded and tipped the cup to d'Artagnan's lips. The boy watched him with a frown on his face. He smiled and tried to soften his eyes to show him that everything was fine, to drink and all would be well. d'Artagnan opened his mouth and drank.

Aramis sighed and slumped down next to them. "We'll let him rest now. He'll be better soon." He clapped Athos on the back and helped to lower him back to the ground to sleep.

Lemaitre sat across from them and wondered at the closeness of these Musketeers. His own brother would have left him to die or killed him himself. He laid his head down to rest and thought on this.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

During the night, Athos did not sleep. He watched over d'Artagnan and the fire.

Aramis slept next to him the sleep of the exhausted, and Lemaitre slept the sleep of the guilty, tense and coiled.

Hatred seethed in his chest again, and he poked the fire fiercely, stabbing at it as if stabbing Lemaitre.

He made to calm himself by thinking of Porthos, and where he might be this night. Had they made it back to Paris, or were they out in the open as they were, waiting till morning to move on.

He looked over to d'Artagnan and brown eyes were staring at him. He carefully and slowly moved closer as not to startle him. He pointed to his ears. d'Artagnan shook his head no. He still could not hear or feel anything. But he felt better seeing his brothers nearby.

d'Artagnan began to tremble and Athos lifted him once again into his arms, and held tight, pressing his head to his chest.

Aramis woke then, sensing that his brothers were awake. "I'll fix something for him to eat; a broth perhaps to sustain him."

d'Artagnan could not understand, but knew Aramis was saying something. He lay comfortable in Athos' arms and wondered at his condition. Was he dying?

He lifted his eyes from Athos' chest and saw the scarf around his neck.

He remembered now, how that scarf had made him feel invincible. Nothing could touch him. The innkeeper had not landed a blow. He had never felt so strong in battle. He had been focused and determined.

He reached up and touched the scarf.

Gus, the innkeeper, was dead. His rage had taken over and consumed him. He had never killed anyone like that before. He now understood the lesson Athos had tried to teach him. Too much heart had felled him. But this man had killed Pipen. He had killed Pipen ruthlessly and with no regard; and it had been his fault.

He grabbed the scarf and pulled.

Athos looked down and d'Artagnan was pulling at his scarf; shaking and saying something was his fault.

He removed the scarf from around his neck quickly, grabbed d'Artagnan's hand and began to wind it around his palm, tight and secure.

When he finished, he whispered in his ear, "All is well. The King is safe. Nothing is your fault." He spoke it over and over, hoping he could break through.

Aramis returned to their side with a worried expression.

Then suddenly d'Artagnan could hear it, very faintly, Athos' heart beat through his shirt. He pressed closer and could feel warmth on his cheek. He could hear Athos' mantra pierce the silence.

Athos stilled, as d'Artagnan hugged him close pressing his ear to his heart, and waited a beat, "Do you hear me d'Artagnan?"

d'Artagnan nodded and spoke, "yes".

Athos held his breath. "Can you feel my arms around you?"

He nodded, "yes", and looked to the scarf wrapped around his hand. He could feel many things now, but most assuredly, he could feel the safety of Athos' arms around him.

Aramis lowered his head, and when he looked up he met Athos' gaze and smiled. Relief washed over him and he left to retrieve the broth.

Athos closed his eyes briefly, and secured his emotions, "We ride home tomorrow to meet Porthos" he declared as he lowered d'Artagnan to the ground and gripped his hand tightly.

TBC

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thank you for reading. Please send a review. Your comments mean a lot. Have added a second chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

The Scarf

By: Musketeer Adventure

Summary: This story takes place during the season 2 episode, An Ordinary Man. The scarf felt like a shield. It made him feel invincible.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 2

When d'Artagnan rolled over the next morning, Lemaitre was sitting across from him, gaging him intently. His stare was of a man trying to understand a puzzle.

d'Artagnan sat up slowly, feeling every bruise, contusion and stripe on his back. He winced and tried to loosen his muscles. He had gone from feeling nothing – to feeling everything.

He lifted his head and Lemaitre had moved off toward the stream, to have his meal.

The sun was so bright, d'Artagnan thought to himself. They must see every fault in him clearly. He lowered his head for his hair to shield his eyes from the sun's glare, and his brothers' scrutiny.

Looking down he began to flex his fingers and rotate his hand in circles. The scarf was still wrapped tightly around his palm. Athos had placed it there last night. It had brought him comfort then, as it did now.

His thoughts then fell on the events of yesterday, and what he had done; and how Pipen had died. He put his head in his hands with the memory. He had left Pipen; left him to be shot in the back. He should have gone back.

He closed his hand into a fist, and struck his leg once, twice, three times.

He was so angry.

He was angry at his King for the predicament they were in. He was angry for being a fool and getting them captured in the first place. He was angry for having to put his trust in Milady – a woman who could hurt his friend, just by being in close proximity.

He shook his head. Most of all he was angry for getting Pipen killed and for killing his murderer in cold blood.

His hands shook, so he clasped them tightly together, unable to stop the litany of recriminations in his head. They bombarded him one after another, causing his head to ache.

Then Aramis stepped to him and touched his shoulder, "Eat", he implored, holding a tin in front of him with bread, and a cup with water.

d'Artagnan reached for it, but his hands shook so hard, he aborted the thought, "I'm not very hungry" he covered.

Aramis placed them down in front of him on the ground. "You should try."

He paused, and then asked, "How do you feel this morning?"

"Better", he nodded, "I feel better."

Aramis did not like this. d'Artagnan would not lift his head to speak with him.

"Before we head out, I want to take a look at you."

d'Artagnan nodded, gripping his hands tighter, unable to look Aramis in the eye. He was so angry and ashamed. He had fallen apart. Lost his senses and held onto Athos like a child. What kind of Musketeer was he? How could he face them?

He stood quickly then, and pointed toward the trees.

"I'll give you some privacy then", Aramis conceded.

From the perimeter of the camp, Athos watched as d'Artagnan refused the morning meal Aramis offered. Lemaitre sat breaking his bread and chewing as if ravished, by the stream.

Athos clamped down on his disgust for the man and concentrated on d'Artagnan.

It had been a rough night. After regaining his senses d'Artagnan would not look at him. He had turned his back and closed in on himself – begging fatigue.

So, he had let him be. He was too overcome with the joy of his return that he did not stop to think anything of it. He would deny d'Artagnan nothing, not even solitude.

Aramis made it clear he thought this was a mistake. They should talk to him; find out what was eating at him, to prevent what happened yesterday so that it never happened again.

Aramis had tried speaking softly to his back as the fire crackled. He praised his loyalty to the King, his bravery, and his resilience. He could see that he had been through much. He begged him to share. "You will feel the better for it", he had said.

d'Artagnan only repeated that he was tired and wished to sleep.

Athos had sat quietly and listened. Aramis had looked to him and almost begged him to speak, but he didn't know what to say. This was not his gift. If Aramis could not get through to him, then Porthos would, but Porthos was not here.

He had a feeling he knew some of the source of this self-imposed silence. d'Artagnan was much like him; he could see this clearly. He wore guilt like a cloak.

He was young and full of pride. Loosing himself must have been painful in many ways. He could see that perhaps d'Artagnan did not want to seem weak to his brothers. He had mentioned a Pipen. Something had happened while imprisoned with the King. He seemed angry. Sooner or later, he would find out the details.

Now, however, they must move on. He walked toward the camp and Aramis met him halfway. "He is skittish."

Athos nodded in agreement.

"We must not let this go on too long" he insisted. "He needs our help."

"We will help him Aramis. First let us break camp and meet up with Porthos and the King."

Aramis stood still as if to argue, but he knew Athos well. Duty was always in the mix.

He nodded and began to put out the fire.

d'Artagnan came from the trees and Lemaitre from the stream to join them at the camp.

Athos looked to them all. "We break camp within the hour. Eat; take care of your needs; get looked after", he pointed to d'Artagnan, "and be ready to ride."

Everyone gave an affirmation and began to break camp, pack up, and see to the horses.

Before hopping into the saddle, Aramis called d'Artagnan over to sit on a downed tree to look at his injuries.

Athos stood nearby as his horse drank, and Lemaitre sat atop his horse ready to ride.

As Aramis lifted d'Artagnan's shirt to minister to his stripes, Athos felt heat rise up from his belly. The urge to strike out at someone was strong. He looked over to Lemaitre on his horse and his hand, on its own accord felt for the hilt of his sword. His vision was red with fury.

Then he heard Aramis say, "These look good. I see no infection. You will be sore, but able to ride, I think." He pulled down d'Artagnan's shirt, and handed him his coat.

His vision returning, Athos began to breathe again, "Then let us ride."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Some hours later, Athos noticed the remains of a camp and called a halt.

He leapt from his horse, walked to the extinguished fire, knelt down and touched the ashes. He pointed to the pit, "These are Porthos' markings. They have broken camp but two hours ahead of us. We can eat, rest our horses and be able to catch up, if we ride hard."

The others began to dismount.

d'Artagnan was slow to leave his saddle, pain etched his features.

Athos took his reins from him, and help up his hand, "Let me help you."

d'Artagnan bowed his head, and Athos could hear a hitch in his breath. He continued to hold out his hand, "If you do not let me help you. I will help you anyway." His voice held a determined edge.

d'Artagnan looked at him for the first time that day, and took his hand, allowing Athos to pull him down from the saddle and then escort him to a nearby boulder to sit on – his hand never leaving his shoulder.

Athos could feel the slight tremors beneath his hand. Words would not come to him, but he grabbed d'Artagnan about the neck and squeezed, hoping to convey his pride.

d'Artagnan seemed to relax, and peered at him through the hair falling in his face. Athos brushed it aside, lifting his chin and searching his eyes.

As they ate in silence, d'Artagnan noticed Lemaitre studying him. He put down his plate and confronted the man, "What is it you want from me Lemaitre?"

"I cannot figure you out," he admitted.

"I watched you take down Gus. Never saw anything like that in my life. Yet you pine over it."

d'Artagnan tilted his head to listen, as did Aramis and Athos, who put his hand to his sword just in case Lemaitre did or said anything to hurt his brother.

"My brother was a hard sod; a taker of men. He and Gus thought nothing of taking a man's liberty and selling it to the highest bidder. If not to Spain, then to whoever would pay the price."

d'Artagnan was curious, "Why were you a part of it?"

Lemaitre continued, "I've been thinking on that. I was afraid of my brother. If I had stood in his way, he would just as soon kill me. Fear of my brother young man. Fear is what kept me silent. Perhaps now, my life can begin as new, now that the King has granted me clemency."

Internal rage switched on inside of Athos. This man was part of clandestine ring that had almost cost d'Artagnan his life, and in turn his own. He went to stand and move toward the admitted criminal, not sure what he was going to do, when he heard d'Artagnan's reply.

"You did help us, and I thank you for it. You helped to save my brother's lives and that of your King. I hope you make good on your freedom."

Athos turned away then and strode from them, only stopping when he heard d'Artagnan calling his name.

Gathering his wits, he turned to his friend, "You are better than I d'Artagnan, I would have killed that vermin twice over if not for you, be damned clemency."

d'Artagnan stood still, and looked down at the scarf on his hand, and began to speak, "I thought you were ashamed or angry with me. I have been afraid to speak of it."

Athos looked to him confused.

"I killed Gus in a rage. I was not in control of myself. Your lesson went unheeded and I lost my senses because of it." He pulled on the scarf.

"He had murdered Pipen, and I thought I will kill him for it!" he yelled out. "But it was me I was in a rage over. I should have saved him. I should have gone back. Pipen was a good man, who fought bravely. He had a wife; and a daughter." d'Artagnan's voice cracked with emotion.

Silence stood between them as d'Artagnan poured out his sorrows. Athos did not understand all of this, but he understood d'Artagnan.

"Athos" he asked, "When I killed Gus, what did I become? Am I a murderer also?" His eyes pleaded with him for an answer.

Athos moved swiftly to him, and grabbed his shoulders, and looked him directly in the eyes.

"You are a good man d'Artagnan; a Musketeer; loyal and steadfast. You are a better man than I could ever hope to be. Remove this guilt from your mind. You murdered no one. Repeat this after me. I am a Musketeer, not an executioner."

d'Artagnan stood in his grasp rubbing the scarf wrapped around his hand.

"Say it", he ordered shaking him for emphasis.

d'Artagnan took a deep breath, "I am a Musketeer, not an executioner."

At that moment, d'Artagnan removed the scarf from his hand, and presented it back to his friend, "Thank you Athos, for this; and for everything." Athos retrieved his scarf and placed it back around his neck.

He hugged d'Artagnan quickly and spoke in his ear, "You are my brother, always." Pulling away he began to guide them back toward the others.

Aramis walked to them and bowed his head in deference to his friend's wisdom and clapped him on the back, smiling fondly at d'Artagnan.

They then mounted their horses and with Lemaitre on their heels, headed toward Porthos and Paris.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A few hours hard ride, and just outside of Paris, found them at the backs of their King, with Porthos leading the way.

Hearing them advance, Prothos reined in, the King and Milady following suit.

"You are well", called d'Artagnan, as he pulled up next to Porthos, smiling widely, and slapping him on the shoulder. Aramis then gripped his arm, and shook his head with relief.

Porthos laughed, reaching to rub d'Artagnan's head, who deftly dodged out of the way and laughed with him.

Porthos recognized a shadow there in his eyes, but ignored it, glad to see his family. Aramis narrowed his eyes at him, speaking to him silently of troubles on the road. They would talk later.

Athos stopped in front of the King and bowed his head respectfully, "Your Majesty."

"I am well Lieutenant, thanks to you all," the King announced, including Milady into his circle of gratitude. He looked tired and a bit harried, but truly appreciative of his Musketeers. He glared at Lemaitre with eyes of steel, and then called out to d'Artagnan, "I have a reward waiting for you back at the palace for services well done. Thank you for saving my life."

d'Artagnan bowed his head with respect and acknowledgment.

At that moment, they heard the peeling of bells in the distance.

"They announce the parade heading toward the Cathedral for the christening" explained the King.

Porthos heeled his horse and surged forward, "Then let us not waste any time." The others followed behind in haste.

The End

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thank you for reading. I added this second chapter for Sarah. I hope it does the first chapter justice. Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited and followed chapter one! This was quite a departure for me. Please review, and tell me what you think.


End file.
